No Man is an Island
by Kethrielle
Summary: Pre Dragon Age II story of Fenris and how he came to escape from Danarius.
1. Chapter 1

If there was one thing Fenris hated, it was attending the elaborate social gatherings that the Tevinter elite seemed to feel compelled to host. They were always too crowded and too loud; with too many people staring at or trying to touch him. His master, Danarius, didn't appreciate them any more than he did; the things he said about his so-called peers before and after such events were vicious. However, it was beneficial to his power and importance to see and be seen, so he went whenever a worthy invitation offered.

Wherever Danarius went, Fenris went also; showing off his prize possession and greatest accomplishment was one of Danarius' few enjoyments at these events. Fenris was always referred to as the magister's body guard; though weapons were forbidden at these events, and Danarius' magic kept him safer than weapons ever could. No, the "body guard" title was nothing more than an excuse to show off his slave and the power he had gained by the lyrium brands burned into Fenris' skin.

If there was one thing that worried Fenris, it was when Danarius started acting out of character. His master had now made several trips to visit a newcomer to Tevinter, Magister Ritune. The new magister was rich and powerful, and Danarius had been paying the most courteous attention to him since his arrival.

Tonight combined both these factors; he and master Danarius were on their way to a party thrown by magister Ritune, and Danarius didn't have a word to say against it. Fenris kept his gaze focused on his hands folded in his lap, and tried not to worry about what the evening held.

...

For a night that had started with such trepidation, it was actually shaping up quite well. Magister Danarius' coach had gotten them to the party in good time, the receiving line had moved quickly. Danarius had spent several moments talking to magister Ritune and his wife before being introduced to the man's children, two girls and a boy, though he only paid attention to the older of the two young ladies. It was shortly after a conversation with her that he did something so unexpected that Fenris nearly said something that would have brought Danarius' rage down on himself.

Danarius dismissed Fenris from his presence. Saying that he had no need for a body guard while a guest of such friends as these, he told Fenris to make himself scarce until it was time to leave. Just barely managing to keep his confusion to himself, Fenris gave a short bow, and left, his mind spinning with questions.

Why was he suddenly not wanted? Was Danarius' act simply an overt display of trust, or was there some other motive? Was this a test, to see if Fenris followed the immediate order, or stayed to follow the more basic order of protecting his master? If so, there was no correct answer. With no indication of what he should do, Fenris decided that he would follow orders, and stay away from the party.

He looked around the entry hall warily; where should he go? The party was likely to last into the early hours of the morning, and it was the middle of winter; he couldn't wait outside or in the carriage. The Ritunes kept no slaves, and he wouldn't be welcome in the servant's quarters. He'd been here before, but only knew a few of the public rooms.

Suddenly, Fenris had an idea. Following his memory of the mansion's layout, he moved quickly towards his goal.

...

Fenris looked around the deserted library with satisfaction. He'd been right, this room was perfect. Completely empty due to the party downstairs, but used regularly enough that comfortable fire burned in the fireplace, even now. It was a large room, well filled with shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books; comfortably appointed with a pair of large wingback chairs drawn up in front of the sizable fireplace, and well provided with expensive (though unlit) candles.

He took a moment to indulge himself, walking slowly around the perimeter of the room, allowing himself to trail a single fingertip along the spines of the books sitting neatly on their shelves. For that moment, he wished that he could read the words printed in those books. Shaking off the though with a sneer, he turned and walked briskly to the chairs, and settled himself in one of them. It should be enough that he had this time - all unexpected - to himself. Several hours of privacy, with no responsibilities, was a nearly unheard of luxury, and he ought to be content with it.

...

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, half dozing, half hypnotized by the dancing flames, when the sound of footsteps approaching in the hallway startled him into full alertness. He sat completely still, hoping whoever it was would continue along the hallway. The quick steps stopped in front of the library door, though, and to his dismay, the door was eased quietly open.

Fenris looked around quickly. There weren't and other ways out of the library, and no place he could be concealed completely. With only a few seconds to decide, he crouched in the shadows under the short library ladder that was sitting in a corner, and hoped the general dimness of the firelit room would conceal him. Maybe whoever it was wouldn't stay long.

...

Grace made her way down the hallway as quickly as she could while still be quiet and managing the large basket Cook had filled for her. When she reached her goal, she sighed with relief. Turning the doorknob slowly and silently was a habit; the quick glance she sent up and down the hallway was mostly a formality - now that she was safely away, she was unlikely to be stopped.

Still, there was a good reason for caution, so she looked into the library before slipping through the smallest opening she could manage. The room looked deserted, but the fire was burning cheerfully to keep the chill away. She thought she caught the faintest hint of movement from the corner of her eye, but when to looked in that direction, there was nothing. Dancing shadows then, she thought with a sigh, enhanced by her own guilty conscience.

She closed the door behind her with the same caution that she'd opened it with, making sure there wasn't even a click to give her away if anyone happened to be coming along the hallway. Then, she turned back into the room and made her way over to the fire and the warm rug laid out in front of it. Setting the basket down, she turned towards one wall and a pile of large cushions that rested there. Selecting several, she settled them in front of the fireplace as well, and went back to the shelves to get some books.

With her books firmly in hand, Grace was grinning as she made her way back to the fire. Sitting on one of her cushions, she pulled the basket over to her. Just as she was lifting the lid, someone sneezed.

Startled, she jumped to her feet, cursing the long skirts that twisted around her legs as she spun to face the corner the sound had come from. It wasn't the graceful motion she should have managed, but she did end up standing, facing the correct direction, with a small knife held ready in her hand, as her wide eyes scanned the shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris made it into the corner just as the door opened. Ducking under the ladder, he watched as someone slipped through the narrow opening and shut the door silently. He'd been hoping that it was a servant come to tend the fire, or a lost party guest, but quickly realized that this person was neither.

Too richly dressed to be a servant, the woman moved with too much familiarity to be a lost guest. Worse, she seemed to be settling in for a long stay. He watched as she made herself comfortable, automatically taking in details while he tried to figure out how he was going to get out of this mess.

She was tall, with dark brown hair that gleamed with subtle red highlights in the firelight. Her fair complexion may have been attractive if not for the color of her gown - just a pale enough yellow to make her look slightly ill. Altogether, she presented an image of wealth, but not of beauty; her figure was slender but lacked the curves to make it attractive, she moved with a confidence that was assuredly un-ladylike, and which spoke of a strength that probably intimidated her peers and suitors alike. Her wide eyes were a dark color that he couldn't make out from where he was concealed, but set against her pale skin and the dark mass of her hair, the effect was more unsettling than anything else, making her look like a starving waif instead of the wealthy lady she surely was.

She was a mystery, and if he'd seen her in passing, the mystery would have given him a pleasant diversion in those times when all he had to himself were his thoughts. As it was, she presented more problems than questions; he had no idea how he was going to escape from this room.

It simply wasn't possible for him to leave while she was present, and all her preparations spoke of a long stay. What would he do if she stayed longer than the party lasted? Master Danarius would make him wish he was dead if he wasn't at the carriage when Danarius was ready to leave; that punishment would be preferable to what would happen if this woman reported his presence here, especially if her family were wealthy or powerful.

Suddenly, these concerns were the least of his problems. As he shifted slightly, he stirred up some dust that had collected under the little rolling ladder he was hiding behind. He fought the feeling, but couldn't restrain his reaction.

His loud sneeze broke the silence of the room, startling the woman and sending her to her feet. The small corner of his mind that wasn't frozen in terror was impressed by her quick reflexes and surprised by the small knife she pulled from somewhere as she turned to face the corner where he was hiding.

Fenris sighed. There was no point in pretending he wasn't there. Perhaps he could persuade her to just let him leave. Reluctantly, and fearing the worst, Fenris stood and moved into the light. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands held open and away from his body.

….

Grace stared at the wiry man who slid from the shadows under the ladder. He was only slightly taller than she was, with a slim build that belied the strength she could see in him. His stark white hair fell forward to hide his face, especially with the way he kept his head down. Even without seeing his face, she knew him. Magister Danarius' slave, his body guard, she'd seen him before when Danarius visited and again this evening. She had been curious as to where he had gone when Danarius had dismissed him. Clearly, that mystery was solved.

Grace studied him closely; she hadn't had the opportunity to previously, though he was definitely well worth looking at. She was concerned that he hadn't said anything, or even looked at her since standing; she hadn't thought she was that intimidating in her finery and holding the small knife, certainly not to a trained warrior. Perhaps there was more threat in her station than she'd given herself credit for, though. There was nothing she could do about that, but she wanted to make him as comfortable as possible. Slowly and deliberately, Grace straightened to a more relaxed pose, tucking the knife back into its hiding place, and sat back down on the cushion she'd abandoned. When he didn't move or speak, she tipped her head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of his face through his hair.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid my reflexes got the better of me. I promise not to come at you with the knife, though. Will you come join me?"

Dead silence. The man standing before her had tensed when she started speaking, but at her last question, he froze, not even seeming to breathe. Finally, after a long pause, he responded.

"If you wish, mistress."

Grace's eyes narrowed again. Lovely voice, hateful words. Certainly he knew her family didn't keep slaves, and she had clearly phrased the invitation as a question, not an order.

Gritting her teeth, she smiled and prepared to deliver a scathing retort. Before she could, her brain caught up with her, and she suddenly realised what she had been looking at without noticing. He was terrified. Of _her_. Grace let out a slow breath, and tipped her head to the side, studying him again.

Her first impression had been correct. Despite the warrior's grace with which he moved, and the muscles that showed how extensive his training had been, he really was terrified; standing there filled with a tension that she had caused simply by being in this room. She was filled with a new appreciation for her father's refusal to follow the Tevinter custom of keeping slaves. She hated seeing anyone afraid of her, let alone a warrior whom others should fear.

When she spoke again, she kept her voice deliberately soft and dropped the teasing tone she'd used before. Clearly, he wasn't used to such things and she didn't want to cause him any additional discomfort.

"It's up to you, but I thought you'd be more comfortable by the fire. I truly am sorry to interrupt your solitude, let me make it up to you? I wasn't planning on going back to the party until the end, so I made sure to bring provisions." She pulled the basket over to her, lifting the lid to let the smells of the various delicacies she'd brought fill the space between them. She looked back at him, and smiled encouragingly, resisting the temptation to try to catch his eyes.

Fenris looked up, surprised by her sudden change of tone. He was relieved to find that she looked completely serious. As the scents rose from the basket, his stomach growled. The young lady suppressed a grin, and nudged the basket towards him.

Almost without meaning to, Fenris walked over and sat on the hearth rug facing her. He folded his hands in his lap, ducked his head so his hair fell forward to hide his face, and waited for her to make the next move.


	3. Chapter 3

Grace smiled when Fenris sat down, but quickly turned her attention to unpacking the basket to hide it from him. She set out all of the goodies she'd brought; when the basket was empty, she waved a hand towards them invitingly.

"Help yourself to whatever you like, there's a lot more than I can eat myself - I think Cook felt sorry for me. It's all stuff from the party, so it's bound to be good."

"You won't get in trouble for taking this, will you?" He asked hesitantly.

She just shook her head. "Oh, of course not."

Knowing that he wouldn't take anything until she did, Grace didn't stand on ceremony, but started helping herself from the plates set between them. When he slowly relaxed and selected something for himself, she smiled and started talking.

She kept the conversation on commonplace things, and mostly stayed with topics that wouldn't require much input from him; a good choice since he responded in single word answers when he spoke at all. Still, her plan worked; he was eating, and looking more relaxed by the minute. She counted it as a win.

Slowly, she added a few more open-ended comments, inviting a reply without requiring one, and letting the pauses lengthen; she felt well-rewarded when he began participating in their conversation.

All the progress was instantly lost when he interrupted her with a gesture, his attention on the library door. She fell silent, and heard what he had, footsteps coming down the hallway and pausing in front of the library. She looked back over at him, and saw that he was already on his feet, ready to go back to hiding under the ladder.

"Fenris, wait, not over there." She kept her voice low enough that hopefully whoever was about to enter the room wouldn't hear her; speaking quickly in the hope of keeping him safe. He turned to look at her, and she could see the fear on his face. "It's not concealed enough, and there's still dust." She pointed to one of the wingback chairs. "Sit here, pull your feet up, and stay away from the edges. I'll make sure they don't get far enough to see you. Trust me, I'll get rid of whoever is out there."

Fenris stared at her intently; it was the first time he'd raised his eyes to her face, but she could see the distrust in them and knew this wasn't a victory. Finally, he moved reluctantly toward the chair she'd indicated and sat how she'd suggested.

Grace sighed, silently cursing whoever was about to come in. This wasn't trust, this was a slave obeying an order. The only thing she could do now was make good on her promise and hope they could recover later. She stood, facing the door as it opened.

She couldn't help the smile that lit her features when she saw who it was. "Tre! What are you doing up here?"

….

Fenris sat huddled in the chair, his feet on the seat and his arms around his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. This was a horrible plan. When whoever was coming into the room got close to the fire, they'd see him. There would be no way to pretend that he hadn't been taking liberties that no slave ever should, sharing food and conversation with a young lady. If only she'd let him hide under the ladder - he'd still be found, but at least it would be assumed that she hadn't known he was there. If she kept her mouth shut, they might have been able to get out of it.

But no, she had to come up with a different plan. At best, it was a fool's plan; at worst, it was a deliberate attempt to get him in trouble. He followed orders, of course; there was the slightest twinge of hurt that she had given an order, after the way she'd been treating him all evening, talk to him as if he actually mattered. He should have known better; the wealthy and powerful gave orders to a slave, even if they had been nice for a time. He sat, ducking his head so his hair hid the bitter scowl on his face, and waited for the worst.

It came sooner than he'd expected. No sooner had the door opened, then she was calling a man's name, delight evident in her voice.

"Tre! What are you doing up here?"

"I'm looking for you, Grace. You'll be missed before long, and you know how upset mother will be that you've wandered off. What were you thinking?"

It was a young man's voice, and Fenris was not at all surprised to hear the door close and footsteps come farther into the room. But before the intruder got more than a few feet into the room, Grace was running towards him; she was speaking again, but sounded clearly distraught, he suspected she was even crying.

"Oh, Tre! I couldn't stay down there another minute. You remember I told you about Jason? I thought he liked me, but he was just using me! He wanted me to introduce him to Bea, and when I did, he asked her to dance." She drew a shaky, sniffling breath. "She turned him down, of course, and he- he said- oh, Tre! he's horrible!"

This last part was muffled; Fenris didn't dare try to look, but he suspected that she'd thrown herself into the young man's arms. The newcomer was trying awkwardly to speak, but seemed to be having trouble getting a word in over her crying.

"He said he didn't know why he'd bothered with me. That I was use- useless, and boring, and- and _plain_! I didn't want to ruin Bea's night, but I couldn't stay down there, Tre! You know how much I liked him, and I was just so hurt, and I knew mother would be able to tell I was upset, and then she'd be mad, and then I'd be even more upset, and- and- I just wanted him to like me!"

More sobbing, and the young man was clearly at a loss as to how to deal with her. Fenris was listening with rapt attention, how had she managed to hide her feelings from him? She hadn't seemed to have a care in the world while they were sitting here; who was this Jason person who had hurt her so badly?

Fenris was quite surprised to find he felt protective of this woman he'd just met, he wanted very much to go hurt the unknown Jason as much as Grace had been hurt. He sank deeper into the chair. _No_, he reminded himself,_ he didn't want to help her. She was about to betray him._ He couldn't quite find it in himself to believe, as he had a moment ago, that she was going to betray him on purpose; nonetheless, the result would be the same as soon as her friend came further into the room.

"Grace, stop crying; please, stop crying. I'm sorry he was such an idiot. Don't spend any more thought on him, he's not worth it. Look, I'll go back and cover for you, alright? Just please, stop crying. I can't stand to see you so upset. I'll tell mother you were feeling sick, and left before you drew any attention. Just make sure you're not still here when the party ends, ok? Look, I see you want to be alone, so I'll just go now. Just- just forget about that jerk, Grace. You're wonderful, he'd have been lucky to dance with you."

It sounded like he was patting her on the back, and then he quickly left the room. Fenris didn't move. Was it really over? And he was safe? It couldn't be. There was a rustle of fabric, and Fenris realized he wasn't entirely safe - there was still Grace, who had been sobbing just the moment before. Suddenly, he almost wished he had been caught; what did he know about dealing with crying young ladies? Clearly, whoever Tre was, he was smart enough to get out of that room quickly.

But Grace walked calmly back over to the hearth rug, and sat in her place. She turned to Fenris and gave him a bright smile. It was the first time since they'd met that she hadn't carefully kept her eyes away from his face; his attention was caught and without meaning to, he let her eyes catch his. Her eyes were a bright, sparkling blue; even knowing that he was risking trouble, Fenris didn't want to look away.

Then she grinned at him, and his jaw dropped. Her eyes weren't red. Her cheeks weren't flushed. She didn't look even slightly unhappy. In fact, she looked no different now than she had before they were interrupted. He couldn't find any words, he couldn't find the willpower to look away, so he just sat there and gaped at her.

….

Grace laughed at the shocked look on Fenris' face. She waved back towards his spot facing her, and when he moved there without changing expression, she smiled.

"Oh, please, I didn't think I was that convincing. Did you really believe that story?" She put on an exaggerated expression of hurt. "Oh! He used me to get to Bea! He said I'm… _plain_!" Another grin, and she spoke in her normal tone, "Tears always scare Tre, it was the best way to get rid of him quickly. I didn't think we wanted him to decide to stay, did we?"

Fenris just shook his head, feeling a grudging respect for her. "It was all a plan? You knew he wouldn't come in?" At her nod and smile, he let out a long breath. "So who is Jason?"

She shrugged carelessly. "Oh, I don't know. I doubt there is anyone down there named Jason. But Tre never listens to my babbling, so he wouldn't know whether I'd mentioned a Jason or not. It's true that Bea is a beauty, everyone wants to meet and dance with her. It's an accepted fact that I am plain, and that no one particularly cares to dance with me. So, it's a plausible story, and when you add in the tears, there was no chance that Tre was going to question me too much, or stay long enough for me to calm down." She flashed him a bright smile, and picked up the chocolate covered berry she'd abandoned when they first heard Tre's approach.

Fenris huffed out a breath that might almost have been a chuckle, and helped himself to a snack of his own. "So who are Tre and Bea?"

Grace smiled, "Oh, Tre's my big brother, and Bea is our older sister. I feel sorry for Tre sometimes, with a girl on each end of the birth order - he can't have it easy. Fortunately, Bea and I get along well most of the time; even more since we've moved here."

Fenris was about to nod when a sliver of ice slid through him. He kept his voice level, despite the dread that filled him. "You haven't lived here long, then?"

Grace stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "Of course not. In fact, Magister Danarius was one of the first people to come visit us. You've been here as often as he has. Didn't you know we had only recently arrived?"

Fenris opened his mouth, forcing the words past the knot in his chest. "I- I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name before."

Grace bit her bottom lip, but shrugged. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew; I guess you weren't really looking at us when you arrived. I'm Grace. Grace Ritune. That was my brother Trevor; Bea is Beatrice." She was staring at him with confusion, the blue eyes that had so caught his attention just moments before filled with concern.

Fenris closed his eyes with a low groan. _Of all the people he could have met, of all the people who could have shown such unexpected kindness to him, it had to be the daughter of the very man his master was so very interested in impressing. Naturally._


	4. Chapter 4

When a shaft of sunlight found its way between her curtains and hit Grace full in the face the next morning, she rolled over with a grumble. Last night had been going along nicely; not only had she escaped the party fairly early and with relative ease, but she'd gotten to speak with Fenris. Although he'd been withdrawn and nervous at first, her light chatter and easy laughter had eventually worked on him. He'd actually started responding to her comments. Then her brother had come looking for her, and ruined everything.

Grace sighed, and rolled onto her back, with one arm flung over her eyes. If she was being honest, it wasn't Tre's fault. Fenris had seemed willing enough to relax again when she explained the trick she'd played on her brother. No, it was when he found out who she was that the evening had been ruined. Although she'd stayed awhile longer after that point, he was completely withdrawn, barely acknowledging her presence.

She hated that he was so afraid of her, simply because of her name. She hadn't been able to get him to tell her what exactly was the problem, of course, because by then he'd stopped speaking. The night had ended on a sour note, and when she went to bed, she truly did have the headache Tre had told their mother she was suffering from.

Before Grace could decide whether it was worth trying to stay in bed all day, the door to her room opened, and her sister looked in. When Bea saw that Grace was up, she flung open the door and bounced across the room. Flinging herself onto the bed, she flashed Grace a huge, delighted smile.

"Oh, Grace! The party last night was so wonderful! I can't believe father invited so many potential suitors and - did you hear? - he said I can choose whomever I like the best! Even Mother was surprised. Father told her that he had made sure that they were all eligible, and that any of them would be a good match for me. So Mother made sure that I met positively everyone. I could hardly keep them all straight, and I don't think I had even a moment to myself all night - but they were all so handsome!"

When Bea paused for breath and cast an expectant look at her, Grace sat up and smiled at her. "I'm glad you get to make your own choice, Bea. So, did any of these handsome, eligible suitors stand out to you?"

Bea smiled, not the bright, bubbly smile she'd worn minutes before; this was a secretive smile. "Oh yes. There were a few who did, but one above all the others. He was one of the only men who asked me about my magical studies; he was the only one who acted as if I could think for myself. Mother says it's because he's older than I am - he's had a chance to prove himself already, and doesn't think of a pretty wife as a trophy. He didn't even seem disappointed when I told him that I only had mage potential, he said something very kind about how I would surely pass it on to my children, and what a great gift that would be.

"Mother says that an older man would be a good match for me; she thinks that I'd have more freedom if my husband didn't think he had to prove anything by marrying me - she said I could be sure he really felt affection for me. I don't know. He isn't as handsome as some of the others, but he has those nice old-fashioned manners, you know?"

Grace was nodding thoughtfully as Bea babbled. She was surprised to hear that Bea was considering someone who wasn't the most handsome man available; her sister was usually very focused on looks. Grace suspected their mother's influence was affecting her sister's preference - their mother was more interested that her favorite daughter marry well, than in the bridegroom's appearance.

Bea was talking again, singing the praises of her favored suitor, when their mother appeared in the doorway.

"Well, Grace, I certainly hope you're happy. Your conspicuous absence ruined your sister's party."

Grace raised an eyebrow, her eyes moving expressively from her mother to the still happily-chattering Bea, and back again. Their mother huffed an impatient breath.

"Well, your absence was noticed. I was asked about you several times last night. And what could I say? That my youngest daughter was ill? That you had felt fine when everyone was arriving, but suddenly you couldn't stand to be in the same room with them? No one would believe it, and I don't blame them! I told them you'd been jilted, they all believed that."

Grace groaned, and flopped back into her pillows. Lovely. Of course "they all believed" that she'd been jilted. Even Bea was looking at her with pity and dawning realization on her face. The worst part was, she sort of had been. Fenris hadn't wanted to spend any more time in her presence than he had to after finding out who she was. And how likely was she to have another opportunity to speak to him like that? Her father preferred quiet entertainments; the large party had been for Bea and their mother's sake, not his own.

Reluctantly, Grace turned her attention back to her mother and Bea. They'd been talking on, completely unaware of her preoccupation.

"Father says that if you'll tell him who you prefer, he'll arrange to have them over for dinner in the next week or so; that way you'll have a chance to talk to them one on one, and really get to know them better. I told him to start with your favorite. I must say, he was quite surprised, but I think he likes the idea."

Bea giggled, and started talking about who else should be invited and what she would wear for each. Grace sighed and got out of bed. She picked up her robe and made her way to the bathroom.

When she returned, washed, dressed, and hoping for a different conversation topic, she was dismayed to hear them planning the order of suitors they'd invite to dinner. She knew better than to leave or make any comment, so she sat in the window seat and picked up a book.

She couldn't focus on the book, though, so she idly turned the pages, and let her thoughts drift back to Fenris. She'd been careful not to try catching his eyes; she seen how he deliberately avoided her gaze. There had been one time when he'd met her eyes - those seconds were worth remembering, he had the most amazing leaf green eyes.

Grace sighed. Green eyes, pure white hair. Well muscled body, and a voice that she would happily listen to forever. She was in trouble.

He had a dry sense of humor, she'd been thrilled to catch a few brief glimpses of it while they talked. He spoke to her as if her thoughts mattered, he listened to her as if what she was saying was important. He looked at her as if she was… attractive - actually worth looking at. Yep, definitely in trouble.

The other side of the coin, of course, was his general demeanor. He acted as if he was expecting an attack; the small sliver of trust he'd granted her had been grudgingly given - and just as quickly rescinded by nothing more than the knowledge of her name. Something she hadn't even been hiding from him. She had a feeling that any interaction with him would feel as if she was constantly walking on eggshells, and would be fraught with pitfalls. And none of that mattered - she wanted to see him again.

Grace let her head fall back against the wall with a long sigh. She had no chance of getting out of this mess, she'd have to see it through. Provided, of course, that she had an opportunity to see it through. And how likely was that? When Magister Danarius came to see her father, he brought Fenris with him, but never gave him leave to wander away. Unless there was another party, she had very little hope of the conditions ever being the same.

Suddenly, Grace was pulled from her thoughts by her mother's voice. "Grace! Aren't you paying attention? I asked you if you thought you could manage to remain healthy for these dinners?"

"Yes, Mother, I'll be fine for dinners with Bea's suitors. When is the first one? And who is it?"

Bea giggled as their mother rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Grace, haven't you heard a word we said? Your father said we could invite Bea's first choice for dinner as soon as we wanted. We're sending the invitation to Magister Danarius this afternoon, to join us for dinner in three days. I expect you to be there to support your sister, Grace."

Grace stared at her mother, then at Bea. _Magister Danarius?_ Her sister's first choice suitor was _Magister Danarius?_

She managed to stammer an answer to her mother. Although most of her mind was frozen with shock that her sister could be interested in Magister Danarius - a man as old as their father! - the small part that still worked was hatching a plan.


	5. Chapter 5

Three days was hardly enough time for Lady Ritune to get everything ready for the dinner with Magister Danarius. Her husband at first expressed surprise at Beatrice's choice; he had obligingly sent the invitation though, which was all that mattered. An affirmative response had arrived quickly, and preparations were begun.

The first, and easiest, was to choose the menu and give Cook her orders. That done, Lady Ritune turned her attention to the state of the house; a short meeting with her housekeeper had solved that issue. Her next task was to select clothes for the family. Although this was Beatrice's night to get to know Danarius, the whole family would be on display; Lady Ritune was well aware that marriage among those of their social standing was more than a union between two people, it was a union of their families as well.

Her husband and son's clothing was easy enough to pick out, so was her own. She spent a couple hours on Beatrice's wardrobe. This was critical; Bea had to look her best, but not as if she was trying too hard. She had to be dressed in a way that displayed her wealth and taste, but wasn't gaudy. Finally, Lady Ritune was happy with her selections - including a single strand of pearls from her own collection - and turned her attention with far less optimism to Grace's clothing for the evening.

Lady Ritune hadn't thought much of her youngest daughter's looks for years; once Grace outgrew the little girl cuteness she'd had as a child, her mother had been unable to find anything lovely about her. Lady Ritune's idea of beauty was Bea's (and her own) fair good looks: blond hair, sky blue eyes, rosy complexion, narrow waist and soft curves. She saw nothing attractive (and assumed no one else would) in Grace's dark brown hair, startling dark blue eyes, and pale complexion. Further, Grace loved to ride her horse and spent much of her time outdoors; all the activity gave her a willowy strength, and while she was slender enough, she didn't have the curves her sister did.

Since there was nothing that she could do to make Grace attractive, Lady Ritune was utterly disinterested in her wardrobe and had left Grace to make her own decisions. Grace was even less interested in her wardrobe than her mother was; since she had to have other clothes besides riding habits, she settled for simply repeating a few items from Bea's last dress order whenever it was time to select clothing. As a result, her gowns were generally out of fashion; they were always in styles designed to highlight Bea's very different assets, and always in colors more flattering to Bea than to herself. Grace didn't care, the seamstresses weren't paid to care, and Lady Ritune certainly didn't care.

Until now. Now, she stared at Grace's clothing with despair. What was she going to do? She had never cared before how Grace looked; in a large party, no one paid any attention to her, and Grace did her best to make sure that things stayed that way. At times, her plain looks had served to emphasize Bea's beauty, and that had been fine with her mother and sister. Now, however, Grace could hardly avoid notice, and it was a matter of family pride that she at least be dressed well, even if she never could be attractive. Turning away from the wardrobe in frustration, Lady Ritune saw Grace and Bea heading into Bea's room. She followed her daughters quickly.

….

Three days wasn't very long, when she had so much to accomplish. When Grace heard that her sister was interested in Danarius, her first thought was surprise. It wasn't long before she saw the opportunity she'd been presented with, though. As soon as she heard that her father's invitation had been accepted, she put her plan into action.

She spent every free minute with Bea. She helped her try different hairstyles and decide which would be more flattering. She helped her get out their great-grandmother's second best flatware and silverware (too good for everyday use, but not so fancy that it would look silly at a family dinner). She spent hours helping Bea arrange flowers all over the house.

Two days spent on dozens of different tasks, and all the while, they talked. She hadn't done this much housework since the last time her mother had punished her for neglecting her embroidery in favor of her horse, but it was worth it if she could just talk to Bea. They chattered about everything, but mostly about Magister Danarius. They went over and over every bit of news or information they'd ever heard about him - from the fact that he kept slaves to the fact that he was one of the most powerful magisters in Tevinter. Between these stories, Grace added others; telling her sister they were rumors that she'd heard around, she told tales about how dangerous Magister Danarius' prized slave and bodyguard was.

She told Bea how the white tattoos he wore were magic that could make him invisible; how he had killed from behind, in the dark, in cold blood; how he killed anyone who looked on his master with even a hint of anger - and all with no warning, and no chance to explain. These stories were complete inventions, things she made up on the spot and added to based on Bea's reactions. She dropped them oh-so-casually between the other things they discussed, never enough to be obvious, and always attributed to different sources. She didn't dwell on these tales; she just repeated them as casually as they talked about the running of Magister Danarius' household, and hoped they were doing some good.

The afternoon before Magister Danarius was to come, Bea came up to Grace in a high state of nerves. Whispering that she really could use her sister's advice, Bea dragged Grace towards her room. She was just about to start telling Grace her problem, when their mother came in.

"Grace, there you are, child. I've been looking through your wardrobe, and you simply have nothing appropriate for tomorrow evening's dinner. I want you to go immediately down to the seamstress in town. I know she isn't as good as Madame Calwell, but she's more likely to have something that's at least partially made up. Ask her what will suit you, and make sure it's delivered no later than noon tomorrow. I don't care about the cost, and if she has to take it from another customer's order, we'll be sure to pay her for the inconvenience."

Without waiting for a response, Lady Ritune turned her attention to Bea. "I've already selected your gown, and you'll have my strand of pearls to go with it. You've been been doing entirely too much lately, Bea. You should take a chance to rest."

Bea looked at her mother with wide eyes, then at her sister who looked equally surprised, and unhappy at the prospect of a new gown. "May I go with Grace, mother?"

Lady Ritune gave her permission, and left with a final admonition, "Under no circumstances will you select the gown yourself, Grace; let her decide what will look the best on you. I'm not expecting miracles, but surely she can make you look more attractive than you usually do."

When she was gone, Grace sighed. "Well, I suppose we should go. What did you want to talk about?"

Bea shook her head. "I'll tell you on the way. You go get ready, I'll order the carriage."

….

When they were seated comfortably in the carriage and on their way to town, Grace raised an eyebrow at Bea. "Well?"

Bea bit her bottom lip before answering, her hands twisting anxiously in her lap.

"I want your advice on something. I'm looking forward to dinner with Magister Danarius, but I don't think I'll be able to impress him. That bodyguard of his makes me so nervous, Grace! I've heard horrible things about him from everyone; I don't think I could possibly be at my best with him standing there behind Magister Danarius all the time, listening and deciding how to kill me if he had to. I don't think Father would forbid him from coming, though, and I don't know what else to. Do you think I'm being silly?"

Grace had to bite her tongue to keep the grin off her face. Her plan had worked, and Bea hadn't pinned her new-found fear on Grace's stories. She put on a thoughtful expression as she answered her sister, carefully speaking slowly enough to seem as if this were the first time she'd considered such things.

"No, Bea, you're not being silly; I can certainly see how you'd feel that way. You're right, though, Father wouldn't forbid Magister Danarius from bringing his own bodyguard - and really, it's such a long way between his estate and ours and the roads are so unsafe that you wouldn't want him to be defenseless on the trip, would you?" When Bea shook her head, Grace patted her arm.

"On the other hand, we know that Magister Danarius is perfectly safe once he's here. Why don't you just tell him that Fen- his bodyguard - makes you nervous, and ask if he could wait somewhere else during dinner? I am sure that no one would think less of you for that; on the contrary, Magister Danarius would probably be quite impressed at your sensitivity, especially if you tell him you understand how he could want protection for his journey. And then, once he's agreed this time, it will be easier to get him to agree the next time he comes, and the next. And if you ask when he arrives, Father and Mother will probably support you."

Bea was smiling at her gratefully. "That's perfect, Grace! Oh, thank you! I've been so afraid of saying the wrong thing - you know some people here think we're some sort of crusaders because Father won't keep slaves - I didn't want Magister Danarius to think that about me. But you're right, simply being afraid of him _is_ reason enough - and not so surprising! - and acknowledging that he needs protection while traveling doesn't make me look silly at all."

Grace smiled back at her sister, feeling very satisfied with herself at the success of her plan. Then the coach pulled up at the seamstress' store, and her smile faded.

"Do you think Mother would let me off, if I told her I was afraid of the seamstress?"

Bea laughed. "There's nothing to be afraid of, silly. It's just a dress. Wouldn't you like something that looks nice?"

Grace shook her head. "No, not really. You know I don't care about that. But, I am more afraid of Mother than of your Magister's bodyguard, so I suppose we should go."

Bea's giggle followed her out of the coach as she went to meet her doom.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a very odd evening, and the following day was even more odd. The morning had started normally enough: Master Danarius had slept late and eaten a simple luncheon. He had started going about his usual tasks when the afternoon post had arrived. Something within had pleased him greatly; the effect still hadn't worn off a day later.

Whatever he had received, Danarius had returned a prompt answer, and gone around the rest of the day with as smug and self satisfied an air as Fenris had ever seen him in. The following day, he rose early and summoned - of all people - the tailor he frequented. Dismissing Fenris, he spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon closed in his rooms with the tailor.

Fenris rarely had so much time to himself, and it was welcome indeed as he had much to reflect on. He always thought better with his sword in hand, so he made his way to the courtyard and the practice dummies he had set up there. As soon as he started the warm up routine, his thoughts turned to the party.

….

He had never met anyone like Grace before, at least not in the small span of memory that he possessed. She was kind, funny, and intelligent; she seemed utterly disinterested in the fact that he was a slave; she gave the impression that she treated everyone with the same thoughtful kindness that she had shown him.

Before her brother came in to shatter his peace, he'd actually found himself enjoying her company; never had he simply sat and shared a meal with someone who wasn't a fellow slave - and even other slaves avoided him because of his reputation.

Warm up complete, he moved into a basic attack pattern against the dummy, his thoughts flowing as freely as his movements.

He was confused about the way the evening had ended, though. He truly hadn't known who she was, her revelation had come as a most unwelcome surprise to him. He had more than enough experience with the Tevinter elite to know that none of them would show kindness to a slave without some sort of ulterior motive.

He knew, in the instant he learned who she was, that she was up to something, and that whatever it was would end badly for him.

He had less experience with women of any station, but he had only to look as far as his master's apprentice to know what they were like. Hadriana, with her sly glances and unwelcome demands, had been making his life even more miserable ever since Master Danarius had accepted her as his apprentice. And all of it was backed up with the certain knowledge that if he rebuffed her she would yell to Danarius about the "insult," and the punishment he received would be severe.

He had, in the instant that he learned who Grace was, started frantically replaying the night's events in his mind, trying to determine not only what she wanted, but if anything he'd done could have displeased her. While he couldn't come up with anything right away, it quickly became clear that she was unhappy with his current behavior; he hadn't known what to do to mitigate the damage he was sure had already been done, so he simply decided on the safest course: he withdrew into himself and waited for her to give up.

She had left shortly thereafter, and he'd spent the rest of the night in a state of panic; every moment expecting Master Danarius' summons, and with every moment that it didn't come, expecting that the eventual fallout would be that much worse.

Nothing of the sort had happened, though. Danarius had summoned him in the usual way when he was ready to leave, and had spent the ride home with a sort of self satisfied smirk on his face, and remained silent. The next morning had brought nothing out of the ordinary until the post had arrived.

Fenris sped up his movements as he started the more advanced exercises, the huge great-sword flashing in the sunlight as he parried and struck at his stationary opponent.

The more he reflected on things in the bright light of day, however, the less convinced he became that Grace had held any ulterior motives. She had simply been kind to him. Her family didn't keep slaves, and perhaps she didn't know how one was supposed to act around them. Would she have behaved the same with a hired retainer? He could convince himself that she might.

The alternative - that she had been patronizing him or turning him into some project or object of pity - occurred to him and made him so angry that his next blow landed wildly on the practice dummy, cutting deeply into the wooden frame. Scowling at his momentary loss of control, Fenris started the drill again.

…

The sun was setting when the front door of the mansion opened, and Master Danarius' butler showed the tailor out. Expecting that his unusual free time was at an end, Fenris stepped up the speed of the last drill and the huge sword flashed in blinding red arcs around him in the dying light.

All this time spent thinking about a person - and a problem - that was unlikely to have any resolution; when would he ever see Grace again, let alone in a setting where they could talk?

That thought provoked a savage swing; the sound of the practice dummy's corn-husk filled head hitting the ground made him realize how out of control his emotions had gotten. Panting, Fenris stood still and sheathed the giant blade.

This was ridiculous. He shouldn't care so much about an idle young lady who had surely only been kind to him out of boredom, or a misguided sense of pity. Too much time to think was apparently as bad as too little; he was determined to forget Grace Ritune and the confused feelings she prompted in him.

Fenris still stood before the decapitated practice dummy, attempting to put the memories of Grace out of his mind, when he felt the silent tug of Danarius' magical summons. Lowering his head, Fenris pushed all thoughts and emotions out of his mind, and settled his expression into an impassive mask before making his way into the mansion.


	7. Chapter 7

*****Please see the end of this chapter for more author's notes than you probably care about. Will include pitiful excuses and vague reassurances. May include a slight bit of whinging and a slight bit of humor.*****

* * *

They were seated in Magister Danarius' carriage - Fenris sitting stiffly on the rear facing seat with his greatsword resting across his knees and his eyes fixed on his folded hands resting on the flat of the blade; Danarius reclining in the forward facing seat wearing the newly designed mage-robes the tailor had delivered that morning - and half way to their destination before Danarius spoke.

"Well, pet, we'll be making this trip quite frequently for awhile, if things go well."

The self-satisfied tone in which he spoke caught Fenris' attention more than the bland statement could have. Despite his interest, he gave the expected bland response.

"Yes, Master."

Danarius smiled, settling further back into the corner of his seat. "Yes indeed. I am courting Beatrice Ritune, and expect that we'll be paying frequent visits until things are settled. Her father has said she will be allowed to make her own choice - a foolish indulgence - but I have no doubt of the outcome." Suddenly, his voice sharpened, and Fenris felt the heat of his glare. "I expect you will do nothing to disrupt my plans, Little Wolf. It would not be appreciated."

Despite himself, Fenris shivered at the threat and the memories it called up. "No, Master, of course not."

This seemed to satisfy Danarius, and he went back to riding silently. Fenris' mind was occupied with his own thoughts.

If they were going to be spending that much time at the Ritune's mansion, perhaps he could see Grace again. He owed her an apology - a conclusion he'd come to reluctantly, but was determined to carry out. After that, perhaps they would find themselves alone, and able to talk further. In all his daily trials and miseries, great and small, the one that was most persistent was loneliness; Grace would be a welcome relief from that, if she would give him the time of day after his behavior when they parted.

Fenris suppressed a sigh. She would be perfectly within her rights to ignore him completely - who was he, after all? A slave. And not just a slave, but one who had taken the gift of her time and attention and thrown it away at the first opportunity. The most likely outcome would be that Grace had realized how misplaced her interest and attention had been - how could he deserve them, after all? - and would ignore him as everyone else did.

The carriage arrived at the Ritune's, and Fenris stepped out, looked around, and stood aside for Magister Danarius to exit. As he fell into step behind his master, a thought occurred to him, and he almost tripped at the sudden flash of blind terror.

What if she didn't ignore him? What if she, instead, spoke to him? In front of people? Or worse, in front of Danarius? Danarius wouldn't be so wasteful as to kill him for that offense, but he would certainly make Fenris wish for death many times over. As he dwelled on this terrifying possibility, it seemed more and more likely; after all, the Ritunes didn't keep slaves, how would she know that he should not have even spoken to her? He couldn't think of any way to ensure her silence without causing more trouble, and he was out of time; the door to the mansion was swinging open before Magister Danarius, and he could see the family gathered in the entry hall to greet them.

...

Fenris had never been so nervous, or so uncertain where to look. He was terrified that he might catch Grace's eye, and call her attention to himself; he was terrified that if he didn't look at her, she would speak to him before he could warn her to stop.

Finally, he settled for a serious of quick, hopefully surreptitious glances at the family.

He saw a young lady who must be Beatrice, dressed beautifully and standing in front of her parents. She was smiling brightly at Danarius, who was bowing over her hand as she welcomed him.

Magister Ritune looked the part - dressed in mage robes with a full beard and grey hair, he clearly favored the fashions of his profession. His face lacked the hard lines of Danarius', he somehow looked more kind - despite being a mage.

Lady Ritune was clearly Beatrice's mother; she had gleaming gold hair, untouched by grey, and worn in a regal braid twisted on the top of her head to add an illusion of height to her petite frame.

Standing slightly behind these three, and to one side was a young man who could only be Grace's brother, Tre. He was well dressed, and clearly no mage - he wore trousers and a well-tailored doublet in a fine material.

To his right, stood a lovely young lady dressed in a blue sapphire gown that caught the light. She had dark brown hair that she wore half up, and half cascading over her shoulders in heavy curls. Her gown was high-necked and fit her slender form snugly, showing off subtle curves.

For a moment, Fenris was confused. It was only on a second quick glance that he caught her eyes: sapphire, perfectly matched by the color of her gown. This was Grace. She had looked nothing like this on the night of the party; that night she had looked downright plain and now he was pleased to see that someone had recognized her value, no matter how she fared in comparison with her mother and sister.

Just as he tore his gaze away from her, Fenris heard his name. He looked quickly to where Magister Danarius stood, speaking with Miss Beatrice and her parents. Danarius was the one who had spoken his name, and was clearly waiting for a response.

"Yes, master?"

"Fenris, when we come to Magister Ritune's home from now on, I expect you to wait somewhere out of the way, and out of sight. I will not require your presence while we are here, and I will summon you when I am ready to leave. Do you understand?"

Fenris was already giving the expected reply, even as he tried to recall what had been said while his attention was fixed on Grace. The young lady was afraid of him? He thought that was what had been said. She was afraid of him, and asked if he could wait elsewhere while the family entertained Danarius. Clearly, his master had agreed.

As he stood there, uncertain, Lady Ritune spoke up.

"The butler will be happy to show you a place you can wait comfortably, Fenris." She smiled and waved towards the liveried servant standing beside a door. "You may go with him."

Fenris bowed, unable to find anything to say, and followed the man from the room.

...

In an irony that amused Fenris to no end, the butler showed him silently into the library. With some dry comments about how the room was comfortable, out of the way, and unused while the family was entertaining, the man left Fenris to his own devices.

Suddenly ordered to spend time in the room where he had taken refuge only days before, Fenris took the opportunity to prowl the room more extensively. He'd identified two good hiding places, determined the most comfortable of the chairs, located the cushions Grace had used and set one before the fire for himself, and found a narrow window that looked down into a sheltered - and empty - courtyard when the door opened.

Spinning, Fenris tried to calm his racing heart and remember that this time, he was supposed to be here. When he saw who had slipped into the room, he relaxed slightly. It was Grace. She smiled at him, and he offered a tentative smile back before his eyes narrowed.

He was annoyed with her, though he hadn't admitted this to himself until he saw her smile. Now, it was all he could think of; thoughts of warning, thoughts of apologizing, all fled as she stood there smiling at him until all he could think of was one thing.

"Why is your sister afraid of me?" He winced, it had come out much harsher - and louder - than he had intended. Amazingly, Grace's smile only widened.

"Isn't it wonderful? It was a brilliant plan, but I didn't have long to pull it off. I had to be so careful, so she wouldn't realize that I was the one who had told her all those stories. But it worked perfectly! I can't stay long today - I promised Mother I would be right back down - but I wanted to say hello. I saw you watching me earlier, and I didn't want you to worry: I know I can't speak to you in front of anyone."

"You mean.… you made her afraid of me? I know I was upset when you left that night, but I didn't think you disliked me so much?" Despite himself, he didn't sound angry, he sounded hurt.

...

Grace blinked at him, confused and sorry to have been the cause for that note of pain in his voice. "Of course I don't dislike you. But, if Bea is afraid of you, you get to spend every visit up here. Away from Danarius, away from the family. I can get out of most of these things, I thought we could use the time to talk…" her voice trailed off, and the last bit came out uncertainly.

Fenris was staring at her, and went on staring at her after she fell silent, until Grace was sure she'd messed up. She'd read too much into their brief conversation and his even briefer trust in her.

Biting her bottom lip, she looked down, her hands tightening into fists in the folds of her gown. She'd been foolishly pleased with the gown only this morning - even her mother had looked surprised and told her she was "pretty today" - but now she felt like an imposter. Clearly, being plain wasn't her only fault; despite what she had always thought - that if she could just be pretty, like her mother or Bea, she would have friends and finally fit in - a new dress and hairdo hadn't solved her problems.

Grace sighed, and turned away. "Never mind. I'm sorry to have caused you insult. Please enjoy the privacy of the library."

...

She was almost to the door before Fenris found his voice. "No, wait!" He was so shocked at his audacity, that he almost didn't say anything further. Only the certain knowledge that he had hurt her feelings - and would hurt her more by his silence now - gave him the courage to continue.

"I owe you an apology. Two now, I suppose. I didn't understand what you had done, I simply thought you had spread the same tales about me that everyone else does. I should have known better, and I am sorry. It was a very good plan, and I am pleased that we'll have time to talk. I have been hoping we would, and that you would want to."

...

Grace closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath, banishing the tears that had threatened to fall before she made it to the door. It was the longest speech she'd heard from him, and the words combined with the smooth sound of his deep voice were nearly worth the way she'd felt moments ago. She toyed briefly with the idea of pretending to still be hurt so that he would talk some more, but discarded the thought since she knew he had no experience with such teasing.

Turning back toward him, she smiled instead. "Yes, I would like that." She took several steps back towards him.

"I can't stay now, but you'll be back in a few days, and I've already gotten out of that engagement. I'll meet you here?"

...

It was only as the carriage rumbled through the dark towards Danarius' estate, that it occurred to Fenris to wonder why Danarius was going to all this trouble.

He certainly didn't need to wed. Nobles only wed for two reasons - to increase wealth or power, or produce an heir. Danarius had enough power and wealth that it didn't make sense for him to accumulate more by taking on the constant annoyance of a wife - certainly not one with a loving family nearby, who would take an active interest in her happiness. As for an heir, Fenris couldn't see that being a draw either - Danarius had plenty of apprentices, and assuming one of them or some more powerful magister didn't kill him and take everything, he could simply select an apprentice to pass his knowledge to. Granted, Fenris' knowledge of nobles and magisters was limited, but he couldn't see the sense in this sudden urge to wed.

* * *

*****Hey all, If you're still reading this - THANK YOU! I appreciate your patience and dedication. I just wanted to let everyone know that this story WILL continue. I have been busy with selling a house, renting a temporary place, and making plans for the new house... not to mention enough packing that having an excuse to just pick up what I can carry and ditch the rest is looking better and better. Like, maybe… running from the Blight? Yeah, it's THAT bad. Anyway, I promise that this story will continue and will be completed. It is fully planned, outlined, and rough drafted; the thing that takes so long is prettying things up and proof-reading. I promise it will not disappear into the unfinished story graveyard, never to be seen or heard from again. It will just include some pretty long pauses for awhile. Thanks for being patient! ~Keth *****


	8. Chapter 8

Her plan worked wonderfully, and over the course of months, it continued to work without a hitch.

At first, their conversations had been stilted and awkward. He was uncomfortable in this unexpected role: actually encouraged to express his own thoughts and opinions instead of merely agreeing with the person in power, and slowly learning to trust his companion.

For her own part, Grace was well aware that there were a number of topics she shouldn't bring up, and more that she was sure she hadn't thought of. Grace's parents had always been anti-slavery, a very unusual position in their class and culture. She had heard several conversations (both those she was supposed to hear, and those she eavesdropped on) detailing the reasons for their stance. Slaves owned nothing; mistreatment was rather common and they had no recourse when treated badly; there was virtually no way for slaves to stop being slaves; they were property and a such had their dignity stripped away; their labor was harsh, the punishments harsher, and on and on. She tried to avoid bringing up anything having to do with these topics, and shied away from anything else that seemed to bother him.

At first, this didn't leave her a lot of conversational options, and worrying about the potential pit-falls didn't leave her much attention to spend on the conversation. Slowly, though, they seemed to get a feel for each other and conversation became easier. Slowly, too, Fenris relaxed in her presence and seemed to start enjoying the time as something more than relief from Danarius. Though they talked a lot, a few conversations stood out.

* * *

One of the unexpected verbal landmines had shown up early on.

She had been telling a story of a childhood escapade that she and Tre had gotten into; only the most indulgent of parents would have rescued their disgraced - and dripping wet - offspring from the formal fountain that ended the adventure, let alone given them no more punishment than a stern talking to on the way home.

Fenris had laughed despite himself at the pictures she painted with her words, when she said something that killed all mirth. "Do you have siblings, Fenris?"

It was a perfectly normal question to her; if she'd thought about it beforehand, she might have decided against asking, but her family was so integral a part of her life that she didn't think twice until she saw the look on his face.

He answered stiffly, "I don't know."

That he had answered at all was a surprise - usually that look was followed by stony silence - and she let the surprise carry her further into the dangerous territory.

"You don't know? Surely you spent some time with your mother? If only as a child before you could work?"

He repeated himself in the same stiff tone. "I don't know."

This time, she took the warning, and dropped the subject, but it continued to nag at the back of her mind.

* * *

It took several visits, before he tentatively introduced a topic that had been puzzling him for quite some time.

"I don't understand why in the world Master Danarius wants to marry your sister." He had meant to be cautious about it, but somehow, the question came out bluntly, and he immediately winced, certain she was about to yell at him for his rudeness.

He was surprised and relieved to find that she only suppressed a laugh at his expression. She grinned, the right corner of her mouth quirking upwards in a way that showed off an unexpected dimple, and her right eyebrow rising.

"You mean, since she's so horrible to look at and awful to spend time with?"

Fenris was floundering for an answer before he realised she was teasing him. This was a new thing, and he wasn't sure he appreciated her humor, but at least she wasn't mad.

"No, I can see how any number of young gentlemen would be interested in your sister. She's smart, lovely, wealthy, and comes from a powerful family. I just don't understand why Master Danarius is interested in her."

Grace's grin widened. "You don't think anyone with more experience would value these traits as well?"

He didn't, actually, but simply stating a flat 'no' would only earn him an eyeroll and more of her humor, so he struggled to phrase his answer politely.

"No, it's just that Master Danarius has wealth and power in abundance. He has as much companionship as he wants, and if he wants female company he doesn't lack for that either."

It took her silence and amused expression to remind him that he probably shouldn't have said that last bit to the prospective bride's sister, and perhaps not to any female at all. Before he could attempt to correct the mistake, though, she was answering.

"Well, I could impress you with the long list of skills and abilities that Bea brings to a marriage that wouldn't be provided by wealth, power, or companionship alone, but I suppose that what will really answer your question is this: breeding."

She waited expectantly, but her information fell on infertile ground, Fenris had no idea what she meant. After a moment of silence, she shrugged and elaborated.

"She is the daughter of two very powerful mages. She isn't a mage herself, but she carries the potential. Quite a bit of it, in fact. More than enough that the wealthy and powerful magisters would be falling all over themselves to marry her even without her other advantages."

She seemed to think this was a sufficient explanation, but Fenris still gave her a blank look.

Grace grinned at him. "You really are sheltered, aren't you? She'll pass that potential on to her children. Any child of Bea's will at least have huge mage potential, and most likely a healthy dose mage ability as well. If the child has a mage for his father as well? The result will be quite impressive, I assure you. That's why all those gentlemen - including Magister Danarius - are courting her, you know. They all want the assurance of mage-talented offspring."

Fenris could do nothing more than gape at her, but this time it wasn't due to confusion. No, he understood all too well now, and the thought terrified him.

Because Magister Danarius wouldn't just be interested in the magic ability of his children. No, Danarius wouldn't need to be nearly that patient. He had already discovered how to use the energy of others to fuel his own spells - Fenris was a prime example of this. It was his life force that fed power into the lirium tattoos, but it was Danarius who could pull that power to add to his spells whenever he wished to, effectively assuring him power for no cost.

What would it do to his bride, and what would he tell her, when he pulled the power of her mage potential to fuel his spells?

* * *

Sometimes, he introduced the topic, even if his main motivation was to head off her questions.

"What do you do, when you aren't hiding from your parents' guests?"

The surly question nonetheless earned him a grin, and he marveled at her consistently good temper.

"Oh, you know, this and that. I ride quite a bit, study when I have to, work at those 'womanly arts' my mother insists on when I can't avoid them further. Train whenever I can manage it. Spend time sitting with Bea - more of that lately, actually, I hate the idea of losing her when she gets married."

Although that last comment was something he had been wanting to pursue for some time, Fenris was distracted by what came before it.

"Train? Train in what?"

In reply, she grinned, and bounced to her feet. Looking around the room, she stepped into the shadow cast by a bookshelf - and disappeared.

Fenris jumped to his feet, and stood gaping at the place where she'd been. Before he could take more than one halting step towards that shadow himself, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun and stared at Grace, who stood demurely behind him, wearing the broadest grin he'd ever seen on her. He snapped his mouth shut and narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're a rogue." The statement came out sounding less like a revelation and more like an accusation, but her grin never faltered.

"Well, a girl should have a skill, you know." Without him noticing when she'd done it, she drew a knife (and from where, he had no idea), and flipped it into the air, catching it deftly. He never took his eyes off her, and he still wasn't sure where the knife disappeared to before she raised both - empty - hands.

Fenris muttered something under his breath; at her curious look he shook his head. After a moment, he asked, "Where did you learn that? I can't imagine your mother approves."

It was Grace's turn to glare now. "She doesn't know, thank you very much, and I'd like to keep it that way." Before he could protest - who would he tell, after all? - she was continuing. "Tre is supposed to be taking the lessons, but he would rather be a warrior - he doesn't like 'skulking around.' Since the master didn't know his pupil was supposed to be his employer's son, I just told him that Tre was short for Tralena."

At his doubtful look, she shrugged. "It didn't take long for the truth to come out, but since Tre was training with the guards, and I was getting good reports, Father let things continue. The lessons stopped when we moved here, though."

He ran his eyes over her, appreciating anew her lithe form and the subtle muscles he'd seen but dismissed. Then he brought up something that had been bothering him for awhile.

"I can't imagine someone who dresses like that as a rogue. Or anything useful, actually." His blunt comment and snide tone had her eyebrows rising, and he winced. He was getting too comfortable with her, it seemed, if he felt he could vent his temper at her.

She didn't reply to the tone or phrasing, just answered the question he hadn't asked. "The gowns my mother and Bea spend so much time fussing about bore me. I used to ignore the whole problem as far as possible, but then I got some good advice on styles and fabrics from a seamstress in town, so I can at least choose things that don't make me any less attractive than usual."

Fenris didn't reply, just let the conversation move on the simpler topics. How could he answer her, after all? He didn't find her unattractive or even plain; with the new gowns she was quite pretty, actually. But he couldn't say such a thing, and to say anything else would be a lie. For who would want such a compliment from a slave? He was unable to offer her any more than words; surely even Grace would reject compliments he had no way to act on from a worthless slave.

* * *

Grace wasn't the only one who had to be careful in their conversations. Fenris managed to insult her fairly often at first; his blunt speech and moody temper didn't lend themselves to polite conversation. Grace was fairly easy going though, and much to his own surprise, he never drove her away. Sometimes, he wished he could.

About six weeks into their meetings, she greeted him upon his arrival at the library with a grin and the observation, "The courtship seems to be going fairly well."

Before he thought overmuch, Fenris snorted. "I can't imagine how Master Danarius has managed to make himself agreeable so consistently for so long."

He nearly bit his tongue off when he realised what he had said. Grace didn't seem upset, but she was wearing an expression which suggested he'd sprouted an extra head.

"Made himself agreeable? I don't think it was that much of a stretch, Fenris."

When he just stared at her, not sure how to go continue the conversation, she added, "I understand that your experience of him is rather different, but I assure you he is a very decent sort of person."

She was so earnest, and so wrong, that he was speechless. She misunderstood his silence, though, and continued, "Oh, I know it's wrong to keep slaves, but it is accepted around here, you know. I can't imagine he's much better than most on that front. But really, Fenris, he's been quite kind and decent to all of us - and he's been devoted to Bea."

Grace watched with concern as a sick look spread across Fenris' face. "Please don't worry about it, Fenris. My parents checked into Danarius' reputation extensively when Bea showed an interest in him. They wouldn't let Bea get attached to anyone who wasn't suitable. His works for charity especially impressed them, and his few indiscretions are in the past. He's really been a model citizen for years."

Fenris had no answer to give her, and eventually his stubborn silence annoyed her enough that she turned her attention to a book for the rest of the visit.

* * *

"Have you had much training with that -" with a nod towards the greatsword leaning against the wall behind him "- or is it mostly for show?"

Fenris snorted a laugh. "Trust me, no one would trust a man with a sword like that if he didn't know how to wield it well enough not to accidently cut off his own head. Or someone else's."

She gave the grin that was already familiar to him: one corner of her mouth quirking upwards and the same eyebrow rising slightly. "I suppose that is an excellent thought."

She didn't pursue the topic, nor bring up something else, so eventually he prompted, "Why do you ask?"

She replied absently, "It just seems odd to me. Where did you get the training?"

His tone went flat, but to her surprise, he still answered. "Master Danarius hired an expert to train me. His teaching was direct, and brutal, but effective. When I had learned all I could from him, he was dismissed. I am now expected to maintain my skills and forms on my own."

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and watched his face as she asked carefully, "Would you say you're good with it?"

He nodded, not bothering with false modesty. "I am."

She smiled briefly at that assertion but didn't tease him about his ego, she was too busy trying to feel her way through this minefield of a conversation. "It seems odd to me that Danarius would give you something like that."

Fenris snorted again. "Give?"

She waved a hand impatiently. "I know you did the work, but do you know what that sort of training would cost? Tre has been training, and the sort of master you're talking about would be a serious investment."

Fenris shrugged, obviously unimpressed. "I don't know, but I am not particularly interested in it, either. He gets what he wants - I look scary and I can protect him physically if he needs or desires my efforts. Why would it matter how much Danarius invested in his pet?"

He spat the last word, and Grace's eyes narrowed. She hated that term and all it's connotations; normally she would have argued the point with him, but for now she refused to be distracted.

"Think about it though - he's given you a gift of great worth, one that he can never take back."

He was getting annoyed with the conversation now, she could tell even before he snapped at her. "Why would he want to take it back?"

She shrugged, and answered quietly, her eyes finding and holding his. "He wouldn't want to give you something you could take with you if you ever left."

Fenris' breath caught. The audacity of that statement, and the sheer naivety, took him by surprise. Before he could find anything to say, he felt Danarius' magical summons. It seemed best to simply stand, retrieve his sword and make her a short bow, before leaving without another word.


End file.
